


In the end, we walk alone

by Frenchcroatiansquid



Series: One shots [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love and Hope, One Shot, Secret Relationship, Tw: aftermath of rape (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchcroatiansquid/pseuds/Frenchcroatiansquid
Summary: He can't save her. She can't save him. They both know that. But sometimes it feels good to pretend.





	In the end, we walk alone

He always brought two dragons, one for each septa. In the beginning, they'd been suspicious, scared of what the king might do if he found out, and had insisted on staying in the room with them. He'd let them. By now, they knew that all he did was hold her until she had fallen asleep, so they waited in the antechamber for him to leave before slipping back into bed with their queen.

She was in her nightgown, sitting on her bed, leafing through a copy of _Lives of Four Kings_. She raised her eyes when she heard him coming. “My brother wanted to burn it.” She said, pointing at the book in her lap. “But I saved it just in time.” Smiling, she put the tome aside and emptied the silver cup on her bedside table in one long swallow before lying down. “Come. I've missed you.”

 _The King burned a man last night_ , he knew. He took off his leather slippers and crawled onto the bed, carefully wrapping his arms around her sore body.

Sometimes, when they lay like that, he liked to pretend he only stayed for her, to protect her, keep her company, ease her pain. But sooner or later, he was always reminded of the truth. _Two prisoners, each in our own little cell, waiting for the day we'll be dragged to the scaffold._

On some days, when the maester gave her milk of the poppy with her dreamwine, she fell asleep almost immediately. But today, her breathing remained strained and uneven.

“I can't believe Aerys wanted to burn that book,” she said suddenly. “Men, yes, but _Lives of Four Kings_? He's getting worse.” With her, he was never quite sure if she was serious or jesting.

 _The King burned another man._ He pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I'm sorry.” It took him all the strength he could muster to say the words, but he was glad they were out. “I'm sorry I didn't come last night.”

She shook her head, a smile on her face. “Don't be. What would you have done? Watched us? Tried to stop him? I'd miss you too much if my brother burned you, too.”

If anyone else had reminded him so brutally of his own weakness, his powerlessness, it would have angered him. But with her, he felt free to be vulnerable. “Sometimes I think death would be a kinder thing than _this_.”

Rhaella laughed, wincing in pain as she did. “Don't insult me. My company can't be _that_ bad.”

This time, her laughter stung. “You know what I mean.”

 _The only way I will let you take that chain off your neck is if your head comes off with it_ , the King had said. Aerys hated him, but more than that, he mistrusted his Hand and feared what he might do if he let him out of his sight. He would never allow him to leave King's Landing alive.

But staying in the capital was just as dangerous.

Rhaella understood that as much as he did. “Leave,” she said, suddenly serious again. “Take your children and go to the Free Cities.”

“And forfeit my family's right to Casterly Rock? Your brother will name me a traitor, claim my lands, and give them to one of his men, you know that.”

“Aerys won't be king forever. You will be reinstated once he is gone, I promise.” She was almost pleading with him now. “Is your title truly worth more than your life and the lives of your children?”

 _Yes_ , he wanted to tell her. _Yes, it is. I will die, and so will they, but our name will live on_. “What gives you strength?” He asked instead. “What gives you the strength to keep going?”

She studied his face intently before resting her head in his armpit. “My son,” she said, closing her eyes. “My son gives me strength. My son gives me hope.”

He waited until her breathing had become calm and regular. As he got up and slipped out of the room, he truly wished he could share her hope, her dreams, even her fears.

But in the end, all they could share was this brief moment before they each returned to their own prisons again.

 


End file.
